


Hubcap Diamond Star Halo

by WetSammyWinchester



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Music Store, Anal Sex, Fae Jared, Hurt Jared, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Protective Jensen, Seizures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8739664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: Jensen isn’t sure what to think about this street kid hawking mixtapes in front of his Uncle Jeff's record store. He's gorgeous and charming but there's just something about him that seems out of this world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of those fics that came pouring out during a fever haze. Title is from “Bang A Gong” by T Rex. Thanks to beta [anotherwinchesterfangirl ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherwinchesterfangirl/pseuds/anotherwinchesterfangirl)who helped me iron out my ideas and then put together [a playlist that I love](http://anotherwinchesterfangirl.tumblr.com/post/154213284204/for-wetsammywinchesters-incredible-j2-au-fic), [samshinechester ](http://samshinechester.tumblr.com)who was so thoughtful in her feedback, and special thanks to [quickreaver ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quickreaver/pseuds/quickreaver/)who created this amazing artwork of Jared that's so good it makes me want to cry. Here's the [tumblr post](http://quickreaver.tumblr.com/post/154080392899/faejared-yall-commissioned-by-the-delightful) if you want to leave her some love or reblog!

 

A cold wind bit at Jensen’s ears as he walked up to _T Rex Vinyl_ , keys dangling between his fingers. A cup of coffee from the shop across the street was a necessity, warming his hands and clearing his head, before he opened the store every morning. 

And every morning, he took a moment to appreciate his home. The black brick storefront with its three-foot high white block lettering was a simple contrast to the peeling tape and chaotic colors of the concert flyers and promotional posters on the inside of their windows. His uncle’s shop and their sign were iconic in this part of Minneapolis. That didn't stop a graffiti artist last year who wanted to add their own color and personality to the black and white paint. Jensen appreciated all expressions of creativity, just not when it covered the outside of their business and home.

He inserted a brass key in the battered old lock, and was about to turn it when a guy standing on the street corner caught his attention. Tall and slender, wrapped in a blue hoodie covered by an old army surplus jacket hanging long over his hands, the guy was hawking mixtapes out of a crate to the small crowd walking by. It was a ballsy move, considering he was standing right in front of their record store.

“Hey, what do you think you're doing?” Jensen yelled.

Green-brown eyes turned towards him surrounded by a crown of brown hair blowing in the wind. That brief moment hung in the air. Jensen thought the boy, or man - his unlined face and scruff made it impossible to tell his age - was gorgeous. And if he had to bet money, he would have guessed that this guy would have grabbed his stuff and took off down the street.

Instead, the boy blinked his eyes, which now turned blue-green. Jensen stopped and squinted, wondering what trick of the morning light caused that change. Then the guy smiled at him and Jensen forgot about all about it and stared at the dimples and open pink lips underneath that messy mop of hair.

“Hey, yourself!” the boy said. “Are you a fan of heavy electro rock music? You know, like in the game Metal Gear Rising? I love that game. If you like that sound, you are gonna love this band.” 

The guy waved a mixtape enthusiastically at Jensen and before he could say no, the disc was shoved into his hand. He then sidled in beside Jensen, close enough that their elbows rubbed together and a grubby woolen glove with cut-off fingers reached out to hold his arm. “Only $5 and you get a ticket to their show tonight over at The End.”

Jensen backed away as if the guy’s touch lit his sleeve on fire. Personal space was always an issue for him. Crowds, uninvited touches, and hugs made his anxiety ratchet up. It was why he loved working behind the counter at the store with a barrier between him and the customers.

“I'm so sorry, man. I didn't mean to freak you out. Everyone says I'm too touchy, but with a face like that, you must be used to people trying to get close to you. Doesn't make it right, I know.” 

The kid’s eyes were now wide and blue as cornflowers, and Jensen felt like he had stepped into some claustrophobic vortex that had opened up near this guy. He needed to step back if he wanted to finish what he came over to do.

“C’mon, man, you can't sell those here. You know, in front of our record store?” He waved at the sign above the door, trying for indignant and ended up sounding like he was pleading with this very tall but untidy street urchin.

The guy’s face fell - no, it really collapsed - as he put the discs back into the box. “I'm so, so sorry. It seemed like a good idea, you know, go where the music lovers are to sell music. And I only get paid if I sell all of them.”

Jensen looked down at the box of twenty CDs by some local band who thought they were the second coming of Trent Reznor when really they were going nowhere except to move back to their mother’s basement when the money ran out. He looked back up at the boy. 

“How many have you sold?”

“So far? None. To be honest, it's not really my kind of music. I'm more of an Eddie Vedder fan.”

Jensen sighed loudly. “How much are they paying you?”

“Fifteen for all of them.” 

Long bangs fell over the guy’s face and he bit his bottom lip. Jensen wasn't sure if he was flirting or embarrassed by the low price he got for standing on a street corner all day. The boy looked like he hadn't had a good meal in days, and he sure wasn't going to get anyone to buy these shitty mixtapes, so Jensen found himself digging out his wallet and three crumpled five dollars from inside, putting them in the kid's palm.

“Why don't you go get lunch? I'll take these off your hands, okay?” 

The messy hair flopped over as the guy handed over the box to Jensen, with another bright smile.

“Thanks. I really appreciate it. The band isn't really that bad. You should listen to track four. By the way, my name’s Jared. What's yours?” The boy held out his hand and Jensen shook it.

“Jensen. I work here.” 

“Cool.” He still hadn't released Jensen's fingers yet and it was becoming a little uncomfortable. With a quick nod and another dimply smile, Jared finally let go and took off around the corner.

Jensen shook his head, chiding himself for being gullible enough to fall for all that street charm. With the box balanced on his hip, he pulled the key back out of his pocket and opened the front door to the shop.

The smell of patchouli in T Rex Vinyl wasn't overwhelming, unlike some of their competitors, and the chaos of posters and tables and displays was well managed by Jensen’s compulsive need to clean and organize. Jeff had a soft spot for classic rock and hair bands, having been a bass player for one when he met Jensen's aunt at age 19. They played all kinds of music in the store, but Jeff loved to give Jensen grief over his love for Lyle Lovett and Wilco.

While love of music was one of his favorite things about working with his uncle, it was the act of flipping on the shop lights that put a smile on Jensen’s face every morning when he walked in, reminding him so fiercely of his childhood. 

He grew up in this store, and some of his first memories were of his aunt’s strings of white Christmas lights which reminded him of the magical stories that his mother used to read him every night. When he would visit T Rex as a kid, before his mom died, his aunt and uncle would seat him on the bar stool behind the counter to do homework or put him to work on inventory. She criss-crossed the ceiling with the strings of “fairy” lights, so that when they were turned on, they looked liked stars in the sky. They trailed over everything, including the mannequins displaying the latest concert t-shirts, and even wound through to the back office.

It cost a fair bit each month in the electrical bill to keep them on, but Jensen didn't have the heart to take them down after his aunt died. It was as if a little bit of her spirit was still in the store. Thinking about his Uncle Jeff in the apartment they shared above the store, he wondered if keeping her spirit alive was such a good thing after all.

Jeff never emerged from his stupor until after lunch time. Jensen didn’t know whether that was from habit and his old days touring with a glam rock band or the all-encompassing apathy that enveloped him after his wife died. Which was why Jensen jumped when Jeff pushed through the curtain that covered up the entrance to the office, coffee cup in hand and clear look in his eyes.

“God, don't scare me like that,” Jensen said. “What are you doing up? I told you that I'd open the shop today.” 

He looked for any signs that Jeff was still dragging from a round with Tito’s Vodka last night, but he found none. This was shaping up to be a good morning. 

Jeff dragged a hand through his stubble and pulled his readers off the top of his head, leaning in and squinting at the box in Jensen's arms. 

“What the hell is that? It's not your Mumford and Sons collection, is it?” Jeff said, trying to hide his affectionate smile behind a sip of coffee. “You know how I feel about the indie crap.”

Jensen held back his typical snarky comment because he didn't know if he could explain to his uncle exactly how he got sucked into taking them off some cute Artful Dodger out on the sidewalk, so he didn’t even try. “Just a box I’m taking out back to the garbage.” 

Jeff reached into the box and pulled out one of the CDs, black Sharpie handwriting scrawled on the front. “Wait, I think I saw these guys the other night. They're not half bad. Let's give it a listen.” 

He walked behind the tall oak counter, reaching underneath to open one of the CD players. Most music was digital these days, but T Rex Vinyl dealt in all media - vInyl LPs, CDs, or even the odd eight-tracks for collectors - and there was a big array of audio players under the register. 

As the CD started up, Jensen covered his ears as he headed back to the office. “Try track four. The kid out front said that's the best one.”

He walked to the coffee pot in the back and poured himself a cup, black no sugar, as the brass bell out front rang, alerting them to their first customer of the day. Jensen’s attention was drawn to an empty 750ml of Smirnoff and a half-eaten bag of salt and vinegar chips, sitting on the desk alongside the books for the store. He tossed the bottle in the trash and reminded himself to go grocery shopping for some real food for his uncle, something more than the crap junk food that Jeff liked to eat. 

A little smile crept back on Jensen’s face as he scanned the most recent entries in the ledger, which were progressively becoming more black than red, before he shut the pages and placed it up on the shelf.

Business at T Rex Vinyl was picking up this year. It was amazing what people who wanted to wallow in nostalgia would spend to regain that feeling again. While the store revenues were steady, they wouldn’t have been so successful without the eBay shop Jensen set up, selling classic rock albums displayed in custom frames.

When Jensen walked back out, Jeff was listening to the new track with a customer who was checking out the band posters and bar gigs posted along the front of the counter.

“Hey, who is this?” the customer paused to look up at Jeff, who pulled one of the mix tapes from the box Jensen had set down. He handed the CD over the counter to the guy. 

“How much?” the guy asked, flipping over the case to read the back.

Jeff looked over at Jensen with a smile - one that hadn’t shown up a lot recently. “Five bucks.”

The transaction was rung up and Jensen shook his head. A shit band with a shit demo, and they still sold one. That kid Jared must have the golden touch, because they sold ten that day, something Jensen never would have guessed.

It was quiet enough for a Wednesday that Jensen was able to get more albums framed and up on the display wall. Every time Jeff walked by it, he would shake his head, refusing to even look up. Jensen haunted a lot of garage sales, estate sales, or on Craig's List looking for pristine copies, and then found someone who did a nice job on the custom frames with a glass door on the front, like a museum box for artwork.

Jeff could be a bit of a dramatic grouch, saying that this new trend of hanging music on the wall was killing his soul, that no one listened to albums anymore, or appreciated the craftsmanship and the storytelling behind them. Every time someone bought one of these things, Jeff had to leave and go back to the office and Jensen would just smile. He was always the practical one in their little family, understanding that it was the kind of thing that kept this place afloat. 

As he stepped outside the store that night to grab Chinese food for dinner, Jensen couldn't help but glance at the empty corner and hope that Jared found a warm meal and a safe spot to sleep for the night.

***

When Jensen came back to the shop on Thursday morning, he had two cups of coffee in his hands and fifty dollars in his pocket. He hoped that he would see Jared again on the street, and smiled as he saw the guy’s ill-fitting army jacket up ahead, with the arms hanging loose on his slender shoulders and his hair tucked under a white beanie.

“Hey, Jared---” When the kid turned around, his face was more on display with all that hair pulled back under a cap. Jensen took in the upturned nose, the tilted eyes, and the natural blush across his high cheekbones. Happiness at seeing the kid darkened at the blue-grey smudge of a bruise across Jared’s right cheek. 

Jensen pointed to it with one of the paper cups, extending his finger as if to touch. “What happened?”

Jared ducked his head and tried to distract him with a dimpled smile again. “Is that coffee for me? Good looking and an angel. It must be my lucky day.” 

Their fingertips touched when Jared grabbed the warm cup, and Jensen wanted to pull back and at the same time to grab hold of the kid’s slender wrist sticking out of the sleeve of his baggy coat. 

“Seriously, who did that to you?” 

Jared flapped his hand good-naturedly. “Oh, it was just a misunderstanding with one of the guys from the band yesterday. They're not bad guys - they just get a little pumped up after shows. Besides they wanted the rest of the CDs back.” 

Jensen’s stomach dropped as he realized that some asshole did this to Jared because of him. He pulled out fifty bucks and pushed it into Jared’s hands. “Shit, Jared. Here, Jeff sold some of them, so give them this and I’ll get the leftover discs for you.”

The roll of bills was pushed back at him. “No, man, I can't take that. I never would have been able to sell them anyway. Besides, I got a new gig this morning.” Jared waved his hand dramatically over a box of logo’d band t shirts, black with the requisite skull and roses on the front. Typical beginner band nonsense.

Jensen’s anger at the thought that this kid with the sunshine smile and too-big coat was being abused swelled up in his chest. He shook his head. “And how did you get hooked up with these ‘great’ guys, the ones who smack you around and make you pimp their stuff?” 

“Oh, I met them at one of their gigs. Didn't have a place to stay so they offered me a spot on their floor.”

Or in their bed. A glance at that bruise, and Jensen was sure their hospitality had a price tag. Some people had no problem taking everything they thought they could from a guy with no options.

“Really, It's the least I could do to help pay them back. Hey, thanks for the hot coffee.” Jared took another sip from the cup and started to pull out a few shirts, piling them up on top of the box.

“Okay, well, if you get too cold out here, come inside for a while.”

Once he turned on all the lights and the register, put on a little Old Crow Medicine Show on the speakers, Jensen set himself up on a stool behind the counter, pulling out an ‘Accounting for Dummies’ book. He hated business stuff like this, but it was the best way for him to help out his uncle, who had zero proclivity for the business side. But the reference book laid out in front of him on the counter couldn't hold a candle to watching Jared work the street in front of the store.

This guy could get anyone to stop and talk, to return his smile, with his head thrown back in laughter or a friendly hand clapped on their shoulder. God, the kid was such a flirt, batting those long eyelashes and leaning in to talk. Jensen never got the hang of flirting. People told him that he was good looking, but his natural shyness was usually mistaken as being standoffish or cold. And touching people like Jared did, with that casual intimacy? He couldn't imagine that.

An hour later, Jeff wandered in and huffed that if he wasn't careful his nephew would be playing Mumford & Sons next. He carefully put his favorite Led Zeppelin album, Physical Graffiti, on the Technics turntable, turning up the volume on Houses Of The Holy and heading off to chat with one of his regular customers at the far side of the store.

As the afternoon wore on, Jared even managed to sell a few shirts, mostly to teenage girls and boys who stared more at his face than the t-shirts in his hand. Just as Jensen was thinking about grabbing the remains of the pizza from last night sitting in Jeff’s refrigerator and taking it out to Jared, he saw the boy go down.

In the first few seconds, it looked like Jared had tripped because the fall was so uncoordinated, a slo-mo drop to the sidewalk, dragging the mess of t-shirts along with him to the ground. But the wary looks on people's faces as they walked around the boy told Jensen that something was really wrong.

Jensen yelled for Jeff and then banged his way through the front door. Jared was lying down on his side, legs at an odd angle, the beanie next to him on the cracked concrete, pulled off in the fall. From the back, it almost looked like he was laughing, the way his shoulders moved up and down. As Jensen ran up to the corner, it was apparent that Jared was having some kind of fit, or maybe an overdose. Jensen thought back to the boy’s clear eyes and easy chatter earlier and couldn't imagine that drugs were a problem for Jared, but some people hid it well.

Jensen knelt next to him and rolled Jared on his side, to make sure his airways were open or if he got sick. The shaking continued and Jared’s eyes were open and unseeing. And green, so very green, and Jensen could have sworn that they were glowing.

“Jared!” He shook one of the slender shoulders and when that didn't work to rouse him, Jensen ran his fingers gently through Jared’s hair, which despite the cold weather was damp and sweaty, clinging to his forehead. “C’mon, buddy, you need to snap out of this, okay? You need to talk to me.”

Finally, one of the passerbys stopped and Jensen asked them to go get Jeff from inside the store. Seconds that felt like hours went by and then Jared’s shaking seemed to calm down, just as Jeff ran up.

“OD?” Jeff's gravelly voice was tinged with resignation. It wouldn't be the first time they had to call an ambulance on this street.

“No, I don't think so. I know him. This is the guy with the mixtapes from yesterday. I think he's having some kind of fit.”

Jared seemed to be coming out of it but when he tried to speak to Jensen, the sounds came out as gibberish. 

“It's okay, Jared, we’re gonna move you inside now.” Jensen wedged his shoulder under Jared’s arm and moved him so he was sitting up. While the guy wasn't bulky, he was tall and tough to pull up. 

Mimicking Jensen’s position on the other side, Jeff jumped in with his arm around Jared's waist. The young man glanced up groggily at Jeff’s face and smiled. “Who are you? I like your glasses.” 

Jeff looked over at Jensen with a quirk of his lips and the two struggled to walk Jared through the shop entrance. As they leaned him against the counter, the Christmas lights flickered on and off for a full minute. The randomness of the blinking distracted Jensen, reminding him of Morse Code, before Jeff’s voice got his attention.

“Should we call 911?”

Jared, who was pale and sweaty, shook his head and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a prescription bottle and setting it on the top of the counter. Jensen whisked it off and looked at the label. It was from the free clinic about seven blocks away, and it was for Clonazepam. The drug didn't ring a bell, so he handed it to Jeff.

“So, you have epilepsy?” Jeff asked, handing the bottle back to Jared who pocketed it with a tired smile.

“I guess so?”

“What does that mean - you guess so? You don't know?” Jeff placed his big palm on Jared's back, and looked across at his nephew. “We should take him to the hospital.”

“No ER, please, no more doctors. This just started happening a few months ago. Spent a lot of hours at the free clinic since then and all they gave me were different pills to try, hoping to prevent the seizures.”

Jensen snorted. “Yeah, they're doing a bang-up job for you, aren't they? Why don't we get you to lie down in the back for a while?”

They walked into the back office, and Jared dropped on Jeff's plaid couch against the wall. He kicked off his dirty Converses, and tucked his legs up and laid down, head against a small pillow in the corner. His eyes were closed by the time Jensen pulled the afghan off the back of the couch, tucking him in with care. He stopped to study Jared's face in sleep, touching the bruise on his cheek before stepping out quietly.

Jeff was leaning back against one of the record bins, arms crossed. “Is there someone we should call, let them know what happened?”

“No, nobody.” Jensen paused, wanting to ask Jeff if he saw the light show, when he looked through the front window and saw a skinny tweaker trying to sneak away with an armful of Jared’s black band t-shirts.

“Hey, put those back!” 

The look on Jensen’s face as he walked out the door freaked out the guy, who threw the shirts to the ground before running away. Jensen gathered them up, and went back to where the rest were scattered on the sidewalk. He stuffed them back into Jared’s cardboard box and noticed a shipping label on it with an address a few blocks away. Jeff watched him as Jensen brought it inside and dropped it on the floor in the storeroom.

“He needs a place to stay tonight. I'm not sending him back to the people he was with.”

“Okay.” Jeff said.

“I'll close up and keep an eye on him.”

“Okay.” Jeff's lips curled up at the end. He reached behind the counter and grabbed his black leather jacket. “Why don't I go pick up some food for us and your little orphan back there?” 


	2. Chapter 2

The next day Jensen woke up with a crick in his neck and needles in his ass from falling asleep propped up against the couch on the floor. The television Jeff kept on a shelf above his desk in the office was on; the sound was low, a comforting drone in the background. Jensen squinted at the screen, showing some kind of Cartoon Network show with woodland animals who walked upright. How did people follow this kind of shit at ass o’clock in the morning?

He rubbed his eyes and then looked over his shoulder to check on Jared, who was tucked up in the corner of the couch, wrapped up in one of his aunt’s colorful afghans. Jared’s lips curled in a sleepy half-smile as he watched the cartoon, and it reminded Jensen of the world’s biggest kitten.

“You should drink some water, or maybe eat something.” Jensen said, as he stood up from the floor, his joints cracking. “I bought you some soup yesterday, but you slept through the night. If you want something else, I could run out for you. Place next door makes amazing banana pancakes.”

Jared smiled wider and pulled the afghan aside, patting the couch cushion next to him. “Not hungry right now. Sit down and watch with me.”

Jensen couldn't help but smile back. “Soup first, then cartoons.”

“Okay.”

Satisfied, Jensen grabbed the carton of egg drop soup from the refrigerator and pulled a bowl out of the cupboard in the back room. He punched in two minutes on the microwave, and as it spun in place and the beeps counted down, he peeked around the door frame to check on Jared. Other than a glorious case of bed head, Jared looked much better than yesterday, a healthy color returning to his face, and his eyes seemed clearer. 

That was an odd thing, wasn't it? What happened to Jared's eyes - that green glow. Jensen wasn't prone to exaggeration; he knew he had seen it. 

Even as a child, he had been practical and level headed. His folks had died in a car crash when he was twelve, and he moved in with his mom’s younger sister, Sam, and her husband, Jeff. Pretty much right away, Jensen stepped into the role of adult in charge in their household - shopping for groceries and balancing the registers at the store. His aunt and uncle were sweet, but they were two ex-musicians who were incredibly loose with their lives and responsibilities.

So, Jensen was the last person on the Earth to fall in love with the odd or whimsical in life.

As he continued to stare at Jared through the doorway, his gut twisted. On one hand, the guy reminded him of a child sitting on that couch, laughing out loud at commercials. On the other hand, Jensen had never seen anything as sexy as Jared running his fingers through his messy bed head.

“How old are you?” The thought slipped out of Jensen’s lips before he could think better of it.

Jared turned towards him, a thoughtful look on his face. “Twenty two, I think.”

“You think? How can you not know?” Jensen asked, retrieving the bowl from the microwave and setting it carefully on the coffee table with a spoon and napkin.

Jared squirmed under the blanket, and for the first time since Jensen met him, he lost his sunny confidence. 

“My mom wasn't great at tracking that kind of stuff - she was more of an artist. It was just the two of us,” Jared said, at last.

“What about your dad?” 

Jensen knew he was pushing it. He sat down next to Jared, throwing his arm along the back of the couch, fingers itching to touch those long brown strands.

Jared shrugged. “My dad left when I was born. Never knew him.” He turned towards Jensen and smiled, flipping the end of the afghan up and covering both of their legs. “My mom always said he was a prince, or that he looked like an angel. She told a lot of stories, but she always said that he didn't want to leave us.” 

“Sounds like you inherited your mom’s lack of judgement about how good people really are.”

Under cover of the blanket, Jared snaked his fingers across Jensen's lap, entwining them between his, scooting closer to him on the cushion. “You're a good person, Jensen. I know that much is true.”

The close contact cranked up Jensen’s anxiety, but the touch of Jared’s fingers was soothing. Jared pulled Jensen’s hand out from under the afghan and folded his fingers back, exposing Jensen’s palm and kissing it gently.

“You don't know me at all. I could be a really bad guy.” 

“You took care of me, Jensen. You could never be a bad guy. Not to me.” 

Jensen could do nothing more than sit back as Jared moved closer and placed his lips against Jensen’s own. 

The kiss was warm and soft, and his eyes fluttered shut. Jensen’s anxiety was instantly gone, and he was overcome with a sense of love. When he opened them again, he looked into Jared's eyes, which had turned into swirls of blue-green framed by sooty black eyelashes. He wrapped his hand around Jared’s slender neck and pulled this boy closer, deepening the kiss. The boy’s mouth opened up, letting Jensen take whatever he wanted.

They broke apart and then Jared pushed him down flat. The blanket tangled between their legs as he straddled Jensen's hips. Looking up at him with that ring of messy hair, backlit by some of the white lights strung up on the wall behind them, Jensen thought he looked like some dime-store angel who had fallen from heaven wearing a cheap rhinestone halo.

“You're beautiful.” 

It came out of Jensen's mouth as soft as a breath and unexpected. It was good that Jared's weight was holding him in place because otherwise Jensen would have run. Those sudden feelings of love and lust and a bone-deep desire to protect were overwhelming for Jensen's poor soul.

Jared smiled and swooped in on his lips from above. It was wet and a little sloppy, but the best kiss Jensen ever had. While Jared trailed his lips down Jensen's jawbone to that sensitive spot right where it met his neck, he became aware of how hard he was up against Jared's ass. He grabbed onto Jared’s waist, so thin that his fingertips touched at the back. If you were mine, I would take care of you. See that you were fed. That you always had a home to go to.

He traced over the small knobs of Jared’s spine under the baby soft skin. Jensen was one to be gentle, let others lead the way when it came to sex, but the feel of Jared under his hands lit a fire in him. All he wanted to hold him and come deep, deep inside, and see what crazy beautiful color Jared's eyes changed to then.

Jensen tugged the blanket out from between them and flipped Jared on his back beneath him on the couch. Jared smiled and laughed, squirming a little bit as a tease. The bruise on his cheek was already fading but it stopped Jensen, who ran his fingertip along the purple and yellow mark.

Jared tried to turn his head away from the touch. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Jensen pulled Jared’s chin back. “Nobody gets to hurt you anymore.”

“Nobody will get a chance.” Jared chased after Jensen's lips from below, sucking on the bottom one and nipping it.

A few heavy thumps sounded on the floor directly above them.

“Shit, Jeff’s up.” Jensen tried to sit up, but Jared gripped his arms even harder and tried to pull him back down. “No, Jared, I'm serious. He's going to be down here any minute.”

He stood up, flustered and hard, and ran a hand through his hair. Coffee. That's what he needed, and to move away from Jared, who seemed to be sucking all the air and common sense right out of him.

Three minutes later, the coffee had finished brewing when Jensen heard Jeff's voice in the office. As Jensen walked in, two large mugs in hand, he took in the sight of his uncle sitting on the couch next to Jared, who was wrapped back up in the afghan, sipping on his soup -- the innocent picture of a recovering patient.

“So, how'd you boys do last night? Feeling any better?” Jeff said. He accepted the mug Jensen held out. 

“Much better. Thanks for letting me crash here.” Jared talked around a spoonful of chicken soup. “Whatever I can do to pay you back.”

“Funny you say that,” Jeff drawled, giving a lazy smile to Jared. “Was wondering if you could help Jensen out in the store for the next couple of days.”

Two smiles in two days from his uncle. Jared must be some kind of miracle worker. That's when Jensen noticed the black duffle bag on the floor next to Jeff’s feet.

“Where do you think you're going, old man?” he said. Jeff hadn't left the store or his apartment, except for errands or a liquor store run, in a few months. Jensen had done his best to take care of him, wishing and hoping his uncle would get his feet back under him. Now, it looked like it was happening. 

“Friend of mine from Chicago invited me down to see a few bands that he reps. Been putting him off for a while. Then I woke up this morning and thought why not? Think I'll stay with him through Sunday morning if that's all right. I got a feeling that you and Jared can handle things around here.”

Jared reached out and touched Jeff’s arm. “I can definitely help Jensen.”

Jensen was speechless at his uncle’s sudden turnaround. Ever since his aunt died, Jeff had become a shadow of his former self; the affectionate and funny man Jensen grew up with was locked somewhere deep inside. Before he could say anything more, Jeff stood up and wrapped him up in one of his famous bear hugs. A feeling of happiness washed over Jensen, as he tucked into his uncle’s shoulder. He sunk into it, eyes closed, and enjoyed it while it lasted. Jeff kissed him on the temple and pulled back to grab his bag.

“Okay then. I'm out of here.” He turned back to Jared who stood up. His face was serious as he put his hand on Jared’s shoulder. “If you have another seizure, I want you to see a doctor, all right?”

Jared nodded at him, and Jeff headed for the front of the shop. “Behave yourself, boys.”

Jensen started to follow after him, his brow creased with more questions, when a hand grabbed him from behind.

“You want him to be happy, right?” Jared spoke haltingly, and Jensen was confused. He didn't remember saying anything about Jeff’s situation in the short time since he met Jared.

“Of course, I do.” 

“Good. Now, let's work on making you happy.” Jared started to pull him back towards the office, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Wait, I have a better idea.” Jensen felt a thrill at saying those words. 

Most of his sexual experiences were cautious, and involved weeks of flirting and shots of liquid courage. Yet here he was, at the sober hour of 9 a.m., after having known Jared less than 48 hours, dragging this boy upstairs to the apartment he shared with Jeff over the store. 

The stairwell was dark, but beyond the apartment door, bright morning light flooded the loft-like space. The apartment took up the second floor over the record store, and had unfinished brick walls with metal and glass skylights overhead, and a narrow row of windows in the kitchen looked out on the back alley. A huge poster for the Clash’s London Calling album loomed over the living room couch.

“Is that jasmine?” Jared stopped to smell the air when he stepped into the apartment, Whatever he was expecting Jared to say about the place, that wasn't it.

“Yeah, it was my aunt’s favorite incense. She always said jasmine was for love, you know, like emotional connections. Not that I believe in any of that stuff.

“You should. There's a lot that happens in the world around us that we don't notice.” 

Jared give him a flirty smile over his shoulder while he walked over to Jeff’s personal collection of vinyl along one wall. There were shelves and shelves of albums, alphabetized and each one in their plastic sleeves. Unlike the pristine framed albums in the shop below, these were lovingly taken down and played again and again. After his aunt died, Jeff would sit here all night listening to music on his headphones, getting high and retreating from the world.

Jared pulled an album from the shelf and flipped it over, showing Jensen the black and gold album cover. “T Rex? As in the name of the store?”

Jensen smiled and took the album from him. “Yeah, Jeff was in a hair band in the late 80s that did covers of some T Rex songs. That’s where he met my aunt, at a gig. I heard it was a memorable night.” 

He took the album out of the sleeve carefully and laid it on the Technics turntable. Jeff may be a slob in many ways but when it came to his music, he spent whatever he needed to get the best sound. Jensen placed the needle at the edge on the first track on side B. When the bass line started up on _Get It On_ , Jared's face lit up.

“I know this song.”

By the time Jensen adjusted the volume and turned around, Jared was pulling his t-shirt off, letting it drop on the floor next to him. The golden skin and the fine sweat along his chest and long neck took Jensen’s breath away. He thought of him as slender and yet there was fine musculature under all that baggy clothes. All arms and legs and hipbones, smooth and unmarked skin, reminded Jensen of one of those Greek sculptures in the MIA. 

Jared bit his lip and ran his hands over his stomach. “I'm not a painting, you know. It's alright to touch. Unless you just want to watch.”

When Jared started to unbutton his jeans, Jensen reached out his hand to stop him. “Wait, slow down. We have time.”

Jared pushed his hand away with a smile, dropping his jeans and shorts to the floor. He stepped out of them, watching Jensen’s face from under those thick bangs. “We can take it as slow as you want. The difference is that now I'm naked. It’s a win-win, right?”

Jensen wasn't a fast mover when it came to sex, but Jared seemed to slip into it like the two of them were meant to do this together. This boy seemed to have so much confidence, and yet Jensen had to wonder if that wasn't how he ended up with that bruise on his face. Too much confidence didn't fly with people who were ready to punch you in the face and give you a taste of the kind of pain they felt.

“Jared, I don't want you to feel like…” No way to finish that sentence when he had a mouthful of warm, soft Jared.

“When do you stop talking?” He laughed against Jensen's lips and then moved to kissing and nibbling down his throat.

Jensen's hands skated down Jared’s skin, gliding over the curve of his ass. Touching Jared was like mainlining a drug - he felt high and happy, floating in endorphins, wondering when he would come down again. Jensen was in such a daze that he could do nothing but stare when Jared dropped to his knees in front of him, pulling his belt out of the belt loops and opening his jeans.

Jared started to pull out Jensen’s cock, looking up at him, as T Rex continued to sing _you're dirty, sweet and you're my girl_. Jensen could help but think, _he's my boy_ , as he ran his fingers along the underside of Jared’s jaw. 

Jared was unlike anyone else that Jensen had been with. There was no shame in his eyes at being naked while Jensen was fully clothed, or getting down on his knees. There was no fake enthusiasm for what they were about to do. Jared’s energy and desire flowed into Jensen through his touch and his lips, and Jensen was lost in that moment, drowning in his feelings for this boy. 

The first song had ended and track number two began to play. That brief moment of quiet gave Jensen a second to think about how crazy this was. He was getting naked at nine in the morning with a guy he just met and knew nothing about. All he could focus on was how to spend the entire day in bed, fucking, and then tracing the moles on Jared's body with his tongue. All of this was as far out of Jensen’s comfort zone as a trip to Jupiter would be. 

Jared placed Jensen’s cock on the tip of his tongue and slid it slowly in his mouth, pink lips stretched around the head. The heat and the flick of his tongue along the underside made Jensen groan. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Jared’s soft brown curls. Jared didn’t seem to mind and began to hum around his cock. Those vibrations shook loose any last bit of Jensen’s calm. 

When Jared looked up, his pupils were dilated in arousal. Jensen could have sworn that the ring around them changed to blue as he watched. Not just any blue, but the kind of blue that mood rings turn when someone was happy. The change threw him out of the moment, because he knew that he wasn't imagining it.

“Jared,” he panted. Given what Jared was doing with his tongue in that moment, Jensen couldn’t find any more words and couldn’t give any more thought as to what it all meant. Not when a beautiful guy was sucking his brain out of his dick.

Jared pulled off his cock and peeled off Jensen’s jeans and underwear, guiding him to step out of each leg. He then crawled his way up Jensen’s body, kissing each inch along the way, before pulling off his black Zeppelin t-shirt, throwing it down to join the pile of clothes on the floor.

They pushed and pulled their way to Jensen’s bedroom in the corner of the loft. Jensen lead them to the edge of the bed, and Jared let go of him long enough to climb on top of the mattress on all fours. His long legs made his ass tilt up naturally, but then his body sloped down, curving away towards broad shoulders. He looked back over his shoulder at Jensen, and flipped his hair away from his face. 

“Do you need a written invitation?”

This guy, this man, this boy - god, whatever he was - was going to kill him. It didn't take long before Jensen dug lube and a condom out of his night stand. They both groaned as Jensen began to work Jared open. It was frantic and too quick, but as two fingers became three, Jared began to thrust back against Jensen.

‘Need more than your fingers right now. Please.”

Jensen slicked up his cock, watching as Jared settled on the bed, resting his forehead on his arms. The way he offered himself up to Jensen was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Jensen took hold of his hips and watched as he sank inside Jared, inch by inch. Only thing missing was that Jensen like to see someone's face when his cock was inside them; he needed to know how they were doing, what made them happy, but Jared’s face was still buried against the mess of Jensen’s unmade bed.

“Jared, hey, look at me.”

Jared pushed back against the mattress, raising his upper body. The change in position took Jensen even deeper, and he gasped, holding desperately onto Jared’s hips to maintain the position. But it still wasn’t close enough. Jensen reached down with his arm around Jared’s waist, pulling him upright against him. They were skin to skin, back to chest, with the full weight of Jared resting on Jensen’s thighs. It was so tight and hot, and Jensen was so deep that he swore he could feel the thrum of Jared’s heartbeat in his dick. 

Jared looked over his shoulder, murmuring Jensen’s name and bringing their lips together. His hair was a sweaty mess now, tucked behind one ear. Jensen was distracted by the cute little bend at the top of Jared’s ear and stretched up to kiss the tip of it.

He could see the other man’s lips curl up in satisfaction and with one particularly deep thrust, those lips opened up in a perfect “o”.

“More, please…” Jared said.

Jensen began to rock into him from behind, and then reached around to touch Jared’s cock. The precome was dripping and Jensen ran his fingers through it, using it to slick the length. Jared squirmed as Jensen rubbed his fingertips against the slit and the underside, before taking a hold of his cock. Jensen stripped it with his fist, adding a twist at the top of the head, and Jared's back arched away from him. 

After a few strokes upward, he felt Jared's ass begin to clench around his cock. That's when he noticed the light on the nightstand had started to flicker. Jensen couldn't even remember either of them turning it on. 

Jared came all over his hand and the sheets below, and the pressure around his cock pushed Jensen over the edge a few thrusts later. 

That was when the light bulb in the lamp exploded with a pop. Jensen wrapped around Jared when he heard the sound, and he pushed him down flat on the bed to block him from any flying glass. 

“What the hell? Are you okay?” He was still inside Jared when he reached his hand up to brush the hair away from his face, checking that there was no glass on the bed.

“Are you kidding? I'm great.” They peeled apart, and Jared rolled over with a dramatic sigh of satisfaction while Jensen took care of the condom. “But I'm starving. Tell you what, if you go get us those banana pancakes for breakfast, I'll clean up in here.” 

Jared practically skipped off to the little bathroom off of Jensen’s bedroom, slowing down only to scoop up his clothes from the floor, before shutting the door. Jensen stared at the door for a few seconds before looking at the broken glass that littered the side table and the floor. 

A thousand questions were going through his mind. He listened to the shower start up and then he heard Jared singing _Bang A Gong_ to himself, loudly and slightly off-key. Something was clearly up with this guy but he wasn't getting the answers right now. 

It was as good a time as any for pancakes, he thought as he stepped into his jeans.


	3. Chapter 3

Between pancakes and showers, the subject of electrical disruptions and kaleidoscope irises were put to the side. Jensen knew he had to ask Jared questions about it eventually. It wasn’t normal and something weird was going on, but for now, it was safer to return to things he understood - music and opening the store.

He set up Jared behind the counter, chatting up customers and ringing up purchases, while he restocked the shelves and took care of inventory. When given free rein to choose the music, Jared picked out some Old 97s and Luce. Jensen smiled to himself - Jared’s choices were as happy and uncomplicated as his smile. Working side by side with the kid felt natural as if Jared had been part of T Rex and Jensen's life forever. 

A steady stream of customers kept them busy and day turned into evening. Lucinda Williams played over the store speakers -- _see I got a candle and it burns so bright_ \-- and Jensen snuck a peek over the record bins at Jared, who tapped out the rhythm from the guitar on the counter with a pencil and watched the crowds outside. 

He thought it might be a good time to ease into a conversation with Jared about what happened earlier. The more Jensen thought about it, the more insane it sounded. Flashing lights and exploding light bulbs? What could Jensen possibly ask him that didn't sound batshit crazy?

The bell over the store door rang again, and Jensen looked up to see if Jared was behind the counter. That’s when he saw Jared freeze behind the counter like a fawn in the headlights before putting on a hesitant smile. It had Jensen moving towards the front of the store, as two punks advanced from the entrance towards the counter. The first guy was good looking, his long blond hair streaked with dark violet, while his friend had short black hair and wore one of those ridiculous silver wallet chains from the pocket of his designer black jeans.

“So, here's where you've been hiding.” Blondie walked up to Jared with a shark’s smile on his pretty lips. “We were wondering where you disappeared to with all our stuff. It's becoming a bad habit, Jared.”

“Hey, Darin, I'm so sorry. I had another one of my attacks and Jensen helped me out last night.” Jared fluttered behind the counter, looking around on the ground for something. “I got your extra t-shirts and CDs around here somewhere.”

“They're in the back storeroom. Why don't you go back and grab them?” Jensen nodded and smiled at Jared, who took off to the back.

“So, you helped him out, did you?” Darin leaned back against the counter, evaluating Jensen, while scanning the store. His friend seemed too involved in looking through the shelves of graphic tees. “That’s awful generous of you. Of course, Jared always pays his debts. That's why we like to keep him around. He's good luck.” 

Jensen narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. He rarely threatened anyone, but he thought of the bruise across Jared’s cheek and was itching for any reason to give this guy a beat-down right now.

“Okay, it’s Darin, right?” Jensen said. “Here's what going to happen next. You're going to take your stuff, leave the store, and never talk to Jared again.” 

Jared came out of the back room with the two boxes in that moment, one balanced on top of the other, and dropped them on the counter. “Hey, sorry again about that. I was planning to bring these back today.”

Darin reached out and laid his hand on Jared's forearm. “Rather than being sorry, why don't you help us carry these back to our place, and then we can party a bit?” 

That's when Jensen knew he was done with the whole situation. He picked up the boxes and shoved them into this jackass’s arms, causing him to stumble back and his friend to run over to help. “Jared's not going anywhere with you.” 

“Well, I think that's up to him.”

Jared bit on his lower lip and looked to Jensen. “The rest of my stuff is over there. My toothbrush and backpack. There's a photo of my mom inside.”

Darin laughed. “Guess that decides it. C'mon, Jared.”

“Not unless I come along too,” Jensen said, moving to stand in front of Jared.

Jensen and Darin the jerk looked like they might come to blows. The guy was just as big as he was, and it could have gotten ugly if the guy’s nameless band mate didn't step in between them.

“Okay, that's enough. We found the t-shirts and CDs, which were the real reason we were looking for him. If Jared wants to stay, not a problem. I can drop off his stuff tomorrow.” 

Who knew that a guy who looked like a trashy Marilyn Manson wannabe would be the voice of reason? He grabbed Darin by the back of the collar and pulled him towards the door. As they walked off down the sidewalk, Darin glanced back over his shoulder through the plate glass window to give Jared a short nod.

Jensen reached out and touched Jared’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” He shared a tired smile which wasn't that reassuring but Jensen was going to take it. 

Jensen locked the front door and turned off the display lights, and then moved around the counter to shut down the turntables and CD players and close out the register. When he looked back over at Jared, he saw the boy staring out the front window with a longing that made him uncomfortable. 

“If you wanted to go with them...”

Jared turned around. “Them? No, no, I was just thinking how nice it would be to have a place to go to, you know, with family around. Kind of like you have here with Jeff.”

“Where's the rest of your family?” 

If Jared looked young for his age before, his face was childlike now.

“Oh. My mom died a few years ago. I guess I was around 15. Was in foster care for a few years, but that was a tough situation. So, now, it's just me.” He gave little shrug.

Jensen nodded. If it weren't for his aunt and uncle, he could have been in the same situation after his mom died. “So, your dad was never around?”

“Nope, he left before I was born. My mom used to make up all these stories about him. You know, the kind of things you want to hear as a child? He was a prince from a faraway land, or he was an angel that came down from heaven. Now that I'm older, I know they're not real. She probably didn't know who he was, or maybe he left because he couldn’t deal with having a baby. Probably married or just not a good guy, you know? But that’s too much reality for me to deal with. Guess I'd rather believe in some of the stories she told me when I was a kid.”

Jared was smiling again as he finished, and Jensen’s heart ached to think of all those years he was on his own. So much to offer to someone and no one to give it to. Jensen started to cross the distance between them, when halfway there, Jared winced and covered his ears.

“Do you hear that?” Jared’s voice was loud in the quiet of the shop, as if speaking over something. “What is that?”

Jensen walked over to him and grabbed his shoulder. “I don't hear anything. What's wrong?”

Suddenly, the Christmas lights all over the store started to flash in a cacophony of brightness. _Not again_ , Jensen thought, panic rising.

“What the hell is happening, Jared? How are you doing that?” he asked. It was the question that had been sitting on his tongue all day -- the lights, the electricity, Jared's eye color. 

“What do you mean, _how am I doing that_?” Jared's voice rose half an octave on the question, and his eyes widened, providing the answer Jensen needed. If Jared was responsible for any of these disturbances, he had no idea it was happening.

Jared staggered into Jensen's arms, a dead weight, dropping to his knees on the hardwood floor. Jensen laid him gently on his side, supporting his head with one hand while trying to find a pulse with the other. He started to ask Jared if he had taken his pill that morning, and then something even weirder happened. In the dark of the shop, the color of Jared’s eyes started to change again. The glow from the back of his retinas started small, but soon the eerie green was strong enough to light up both their faces.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit.” Jensen eyed his cell phone sitting out of reach on the counter. What was 911 going to do in this situation anyway?

He held onto Jared tightly, just as he had the day before, while trying to avoid looking down at the glow. “C'mon Jared, hang in there.”

That's when he heard the murmuring and looked down at Jared's pink lips, which were moving non-stop. He leaned in to listen, thinking Jared was speaking to him, but realized it was the same gibberish from when he had his fit on the street corner. The sounds were almost lyrical and strangely beautiful but made little sense to Jensen just the same.

As Jensen was about to go into full panic mode, the light in Jared's eyes dulled. His hands came up to fist in the soft cotton of Jensen's t-shirt, pulling him even closer to his lips. 

“Don't let them take me, please.”

The intense encounter ended with a gentle sigh, as Jared's head fell to the side. The Christmas lights went dark and the store was perfectly silently.

“What the hell is going on?” Jensen yelled out to the empty, dark store.

Fifteen minutes later and it was déjà vu of the night before, with Jared lying under a blanket on the office couch. This time, Jensen sat on the wooden chair across the room, head hanging down as he contemplated his cell phone. Who else could he call? His uncle? And what would he say? Hey, remember that cute boy we took in, who has no home? Well, a funny thing keeps happening…

“Jensen.” 

The soft rasp came from under the blanket and he moved quickly to kneel by the couch. “How are you feeling?”

Soft hazel eyes looked up at him, watery and uncertain. “What happened? Did I have another seizure?”

Jensen opened his mouth but hesitated, dying to tell Jared all about the strange occurrences that kept happening around him but not sure where to begin. “I don't think they're seizures.”

“Oh.” He seemed to pull further inside the blanket, but didn’t ask for more explanation.

Jensen ran his fingers through Jared's long bangs, trying to comfort him and smiling as he tucked some of the long hair behind his bent left ear. He was distracted by wanting to kiss it, but there were questions that needed answers. 

“Jared, who's coming to get you? You said not to let them take you. Who?”

Jared's forehead scrunched up. “I said that? That's weird. There's nobody trying to find me, Jen.” 

His eyes became wet at some memory inaccessible to Jensen and his eyelids fluttered shut in exhaustion. Jensen sat back on his heels, and as much as he wanted to shake the boy awake and find out what was going on, Jared looked beaten down by the fit and Jensen didn't have the heart to wake him again. There would plenty of time to talk in the morning.

Upstairs in the back of Jeff's closet, Jensen found an old sleeping bag and he threw on a pair of sweats. Pulling a menu off the refrigerator for a local Chinese place that delivered, he headed back downstairs to take up his place by the couch and wait for some hot-and-sour soup and lemon chicken. 

He ate and watched some TV, leaning back against the couch next to Jared, his hand rarely straying from Jared’s arm. Despite his desire to stay awake all night, Jensen fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

An insistent banging on the front door of the shop woke him the next morning. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of Chinese food left out all night, and sat up to check on Jared, who was sleeping the sleep of the innocent. He brushed the boy’s bangs out of his face before standing up.

“All right, all right. I'm coming.” Jensen threw a sweatshirt on over his t-shirt and stumbled into the store. 

A man was waiting at the front door for him. The stranger was a good-looking older man with a familiar look, tall and graceful with shoulder-length grey hair. Incongruous to the gritty neighborhood at this early hour, he was wearing an expensive pinstriped grey suit and a green silk tie.

“We're not open yet,” Jensen said though the glass pane between them.

“I need to talk with you about something of a personal nature. Could we talk inside?” The man smiled patiently, shifting the cane he carried to his other hand. Jensen reached for the lock before remembering what Jared said last night during his fit - _don't let them take me._

“Who are you? Show me some ID. For all I know, you could be here to rob the store.” That got a smile from the man, who smiled and ducked his head, tucking his long silvery hair behind a bent left ear. He pulled out an expensive leather wallet with a New York ID.

Jensen froze at the gesture. He tried to get another look at that ear, not even paying attention to the name on the ID card. Jensen bit his lip, trying to think, then glanced back over his shoulder at the office, where it was quiet and dark. All of his instincts told him that this was probably one of Jared’s relatives. Thinking of the boy in the back room and his longing glances the day before, he reached out and flipped the deadbolts. 

The man looked through the open door and waited. “May I come inside?”

Jensen waved him in, but the man hesitated. “Yes, come inside before we both freeze our balls off standing here.”

The older man looked curiously around the shop as he stepped inside, and glanced at the back office as if he knew Jared was there, and Jensen stepped back to block his view.

“What can I do to help you?” Jensen said.

“I'm looking for this young man.” The grey man, as Jensen began to think of him, reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a photo. It was a color snapshot of a young Jared and his mother. Looking at it, the resemblance between the two men was unmistakable.

Jensen took hold of the photo. “Where did you get this?”

“We’ve been trying to contact Jared for a while. I thought I found where he was staying, and tracked him down to an address nearby but it appears he moved out a few days ago. They were kind enough to give me his things.”

A small backpack dangled from the grey man’s arm. Fucking Darin and his loser bandmates just gave away Jared's things to a stranger. “You can't keep that. It's Jared's.”

“So, you do know where he is. That’s splendid. Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me?” His hazel eyes seemed to light up, as he looked over Jensen's shoulder towards the back room.

“Just a second. Who are you, really?”

“You've already guessed part of it. I'm part of Jared's family and wish him no harm. My name is Ogme. His father is looking for him and I've been sent to find him, and bring the little prince back with me.”

“Little prince, huh? That sounds pretty messed up, considering Jared has never met his father. How about you leave a message with me and I'll tell him that you were looking for him?” 

Jensen opened up his arms to gesture back towards the front door, now feeling desperate to get this guy out of the building and far from Jared. Jensen wanted family for the boy. He knew the hole you felt when they were gone. But just because they're family, because they’re blood, doesn't mean that they're a good thing in your life. After all the bad that kid had gone through, Jensen would make sure that he was alright before letting someone new in his life.

Ogme nodded as if he was privy to Jensen's inner monologue. “I appreciate that you are protective of him. But your wishes are irrelevant compared to that of his family. We are the ones who know how to take care of him best.”

“Yeah, great job so far. He's had no one to care for him since his mom died. Where were all of you then? Where were you when he started to have seizures and needed care?”

“Ah, yes. We didn't know that his mother died until recently. Now, if you would just step aside.”

The grey man went to walk around Jensen, who stuck his arm out to stop him. With a lazy flick of Ogme’s wrist, Jensen was thrown to the ground, skidding a few feet away.

“Wait, don't hurt him.” 

Jared spoke up from the back doorway, where he leaned for support against the doorframe, wrapped in the knitted afghan. His hair stood up in spots and his face was pale, and Jensen was once more reminded of an orphan from Oliver Twist. It was so far removed from the power of the electrical disruptions and eerie glow of last night. He was just an ordinary boy.

“There you are.” Ogme stepped over Jensen, ignoring where he was sprawled on the floor, and moved to where Jared stood. “We've been calling you. Haven't you heard?”

Jared’s once-smiling face was now tight lipped and anxious, and he pulled away from the man's reach. “That voice? All the noises that I heard before every attack? I thought I was crazy. That was you?” 

“All you had to do was open your mind, rather than fight it, and use your gifts to hear us. There was no reason for you to be alone, boy. We would have found you and brought you home, if you had answered the call.” 

The grey man reached out his hand and Jared looked horrified. He dropped the afghan from his shoulders and skirted around the reach of the man, dropping to his knees beside Jensen on the hardwood floor. 

“Are you okay?”

Jensen could see the tears hanging in Jared's eyes, threatening to fall, and the confusion behind them. “It's going to be all right, Jared.”

“How is it going to be all right? I may not have had much but I was happy with my life, even when I lost my mom. Then I found you and I thought that maybe… Now, I find out I'm some kind of freak?”

“You're not a freak.” Jensen and Ogme spoke at the same time.

“The people here call us the Sidhe or aos sí,” the grey man said. When that didn't get a response from either of them, Ogme continued. “Surely, you know the fae? You are a half blood, because your mother was human. Surely, she told you the stories?”

As Ogme turned his attention to Jared, he must have released whatever hold he had on Jensen, who struggled to sit up.

“He's crazy, right?” Jared said, looking into Jensen’s eyes for confirmation, before looking back at the grey man. “You're crazy.”

Ogme seemed surprised for the first time. “Why don't you ask him? Your friend knows. He's seen it. I can tell by his face, even if he won't say the words out loud. He knows that you aren’t of this world.” He let out a deep sigh when neither of them spoke or moved. “Fine. Why don't I save us all a lot of time, and show you?”

Reaching out a slender white finger with a perfectly trimmed nail, he bent down and tapped Jared gently on the forehead. A small flash happened at the tip of his finger. Not a world-changing, shock-and-awe flash, but more like the strike of a match, burning green and bright, leaving a dark after-image. Once it was gone, Jared scrambled to his feet, and Jensen could already see the changes.

The bruise on his cheek was gone, and the pallor from his seizure was now the blush of health. His thin frame had filled out, and his hair was smooth and flawless, its color transformed with strands of red and gold running through the brown. But the most dramatic change were his eyes. They were dazzling, a brilliant blue-green with streaks of yellow. It was as if Jensen had been looking at him all this time through smudged glasses, and someone had finally cleaned the lenses. He was still Jared, but he was so much more than just a boy.

All the fairy lights across the store flared up brightly. As Jensen looked up at Jared, he could see it, the otherworldliness, his beauty framed once again by the lights as if they were the stars in the sky. It was almost too much to look at.

“Is this really you?” Jensen croaked. His words, his being, seemed too rough by comparison, as if now that he could really see Jared, he shouldn't be allowed to touch him again. 

“This isn't half of what he is,” Ogme said disdainfully. “Which is why the boy can't stay here any longer. He is too young and there is too much going on to leave him alone any longer.”

“Too young?” Jared backed up another step.

“In our world, you're still a child. Why do you think the call made you so ill? You are untrained and need to learn these things by living with your own people. Otherwise, all of this will just continue to wear you down. There is so much your family can teach you and nothing of value to keep you here.”

Jared looked at Jensen, so uncertain in that moment, every inch a boy and not a man, causing a surge of protective feelings. He stood up and moved in front of his boy, answering for him.

“Why did his father leave him here? That's not what family does. Family sticks around. They protect each other.”

The grey man’s eyes went flat, and there was a smell of ozone. Jensen felt the hairs rise on his arm as if an electric current ran through his body and all the way to his heart. He staggered back a few steps where Jared took his arm.

“I would watch what you say,” Ogme said. “Your life is worth nothing. It is only spared right now because you helped him. That could change if you continue to test me.”

Jared stepped in, drawing up to his full height and deflecting attention away from Jensen. “If I went with you, would I get to meet my father?”

“Of course, I will take you there immediately.”

“And if I go, will you leave Jensen alone and not hurt him in any way?”

Ogme nodded with some reluctance. “If that’s what you wish, he will be protected.”

Jensen shook his head. The hit to his head from when the grey man threw him across the floor hurt less than the speed and direction of this conversation, and his desire flared to keep Jared here with him. 

“No, stop and listen to me. You don't know what he wants or where this guy might take you. Just wait and give it more time. Give us more time.”

“I need to know what I am, Jensen. I can't find that here. If this guy -- this being -- is part of my family, I need to trust him. Wouldn't you do the same?”

Jared took hold of his arm, and Jensen felt warmth and love and clarity flow into him from the touch. He looked into his eyes and Jared smiled brightly. 

“”It’s going to be okay. We will see each other again. I know it.” He let go of Jensen's arm and turned back to Ogme.

“Are you ready?” the grey man asked, and Jared nodded once before they disappeared in a silver gleam of light.

In the silence that followed, Jensen closed his eyes, hoping to recapture that feeling of warmth and love from Jared's touch but it was long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a cliffhanger and the chapter count went up to four, but I promise the last chapter will be finished by next Sunday!


	4. Chapter 4

When he heard Jeff walk back in the door Sunday night, Jensen took another sip from the bottle of whiskey in his hand. Part of him was glad that Jeff had a great time with his friend in Chicago, while another part just didn't care about anything anymore. Jensen didn't move from where he sat on the couch wrapped in Jared's afghan in the dark, but his uncle must have heard him.

Jeff leaned against the doorway, and the look on his face made Jensen feel twelve years old again. But instead of a grief-stricken boy, he would have seen an unwashed, unshaven, and broken-hearted man. It must have been like looking in the mirror for his uncle.

“You eaten yet today?” 

Whiskey was the only thing in his stomach right now, warm and bitter. Jensen shook his head no.

“I’ll get us some food, okay? Is it just the two of us tonight?” Jeff asked, waiting for a reply, but Jensen looked away and took another drag off the bottle. 

“Okay, food it is.”

Jeff turned on the TV in the office and took the bottle away from Jensen, but other than that, he left him alone. Jensen snuggled under the afghan, breathing in the remains of Jared's scent, replaying in his mind the last moment he saw him. What could he have said or done to change Jared’s mind? What was happening to him on the other side? Jensen laid down on his side and pulled the blanket up to his chin, falling into a deep sleep.

When he woke up the next day, coffee was made and he could hear his uncle out front opening the store. At least one of them was functioning.

He told Jeff that he needed to take the day off, which was accepted with a concerned quirk of an eyebrow and a nod. Jensen threw on his jacket and scarf, and walked out into light snow flurries and a wind that bit at his uncovered ears.

The Hennepin County library opened at 9 am and Jensen stayed that first day until 2 pm. He walked out the door with an armful of books on all manner of fae. He had sorted through the ones that were obviously no use - children's fairy tales and anything with sweet-winged creatures on the front - and got it down to a manageable sized stack.

The older lore books that he found talked about the fae as radiant angelic creatures, an ancient race that lived in seclusion, a group that had pulled away from humans with the advent of modern religion. He smiled at the words angelic, thinking of Jared's mom. The stories she told her little boy to comfort him at night were closer to the truth than Jared knew.

When Jensen started back to work the next day at the store, he sat behind the counter and poured over the books, writing any useful information in a small wire-bound notebook. At first, he refused to take lunch breaks but Jeff finally had enough of that after three days. 

Looking through the notes and some of the drawings he made in the notebook, his best guess was that Jared was probably half-slyph, an air elemental, beings known for their beauty and intelligence. And Ogme? He found reference to an Ogme the Brave in Irish folklore, a god of eloquence and writing, but once again there wasn't enough written about him to know for sure. And Jared’s possible family? They could have included dozens of pagan deities- there was no way to know which one might be Jared's father.

Next on Jensen's list was to find out more about Jared's mom. How did she meet his father? If she had contact with one of these beings, he could, too. There must be some way to reach out and cross the boundaries between the two worlds to see Jared again.

Thanks to Google, the information Jared’s mom was relatively easy to find. It turned out that she was a famous psychic who wrote books on the “sensitive” experience, how people could tune into the unseen world around them. 

The last thing that was written about her professionally was an article describing a spiritual tour that she made in Ireland twenty three years ago. She wrote about “thin places” where other worlds bled into ours. Jensen wrote down a list of these from her itinerary - stone circles, cairns and wells all over Great Britain - and plotted them out on a map.

After that tour, she seemed to drop off the map except for an obituary written following her death in a hit-and-run car accident eight years ago. The only living relative listed in the obit was her fifteen-year-old son, Jared.

***

Three weeks after he saw Jared for the last time, Jensen sat behind the counter on a quiet Wednesday night. The lack of customers gave him all the time he needed to focus on his laptop and read another article he found about the Sidhe. He had been writing notes for forty-five minutes, when Jeff walked up at closing time.

“You up for a beer?” 

Jensen’s first reaction was to say no, but the look in his uncle's eyes made him reconsider. He glanced down at the laptop briefly and back up again.

“Sure, sounds good.”

The bar across the street from _T Rex_ was as quiet as the shop. The bartender Ty waved as they entered and they grabbed two stools at the end of the bar. Ty walked over, holding up a bottle of 2 Gingers whiskey and two glasses.

“Jeff, haven't seen you in a while. What’s going on?” Ty wiggled the bottle, and at Jeff's nod, he started to pour.

“Yeah, sorry about that, Ty. Just got a little wrapped up in some personal stuff the last few months. Good to see your ugly mug hasn't changed any.” Jeff raised his glass with a smile.

Ty laughed, and gave a quick glance at Jensen, before heading off to check on the only other patron in the joint. Everyone in the neighborhood knew about how badly Jeff took his wife's death, but most were unsure how to help and left the messiness of grief for Jensen to deal with.

Jensen clinked his glass with Jeff’s. “Here's to getting out of the store every once in awhile.”

“About that,” Jeff said, his voice low and gravelly, “I know you've been down since Jared left.”

When Jensen didn’t respond, Jeff continued, “You haven't said much about it, but you know that you can tell me anything, right?”

Jensen’s mouth opened and closed twice and still nothing came out to answer Jeff. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell his uncle, but where do he start with a story like that that didn't sound crazy.

His uncle seemed to recognize his difficulty and took a different tack. “So, are these books you keep bringing in the store related to all this?”

Jensen nodded.

“Well, I'm sorry about the whole thing. Jared seemed like a good guy, and I hoped things would work out for you two. Nothing worse than being away from the person who means the world to you.” Jeff finished his drink and signaled for Ty to pour one more for both of them. “Anything you can do to fix it?”

“I'm not sure. I haven't been able to figure it out.” Jensen looked down at his drink before looking up.

His uncle’s face softened when their eyes met, which always tugged at Jensen's heart. When the world looked at Jeff, all they saw was a tough old rock and roller with the bike and the tattoos, but Jensen knew that Jeff was a giant teddy bear.

“You know, you don't need to stick around for me.” Jeff laughed at the surprise on Jensen’s face. “Oh c’mon, Jensen, you’ve always been an open book to me, boy. I know that all you see is a responsibility with me. Given how I've acted this year, I get it. But, I'm a grown man who can take care of himself. You need to think about yourself for a change. What do you want?”

“Jared.” There was no hesitation as to the very first thing that came to his mind. He never wanted someone like this. He never missed someone like this.

Jeff laughed in that deep, reassuring way that comforted Jensen. It was the sound he remembered as a teenager, an orphan, that told him that life would be all right in the end, no matter what you faced. “Well, then what are you waiting for? Once you figure all this out, go for it. You know that I'll always be here if you need me.”

He could do this. He would figure out a way to reach Jared.

***

It was a typical Tuesday morning as Jensen walked up to the front door of _T Rex_ , with keys in one hand and coffee in the other. A big gust of wind blew though as he reached for the door, causing the fluffy flakes of snow to swirl in front of him. The weatherman said it was the first big snowstorm of the season, and Jensen sighed, looking up at the sky trying to figure out if they were right.

When he looked back down, a movement on the street corner caught his eye.

A tall man with long brown hair dressed in a navy pea coat and a wool scarf was watching him, as snow swirled around his long legs. Jensen stopped breathing when their eyes met. The vision only lasted for a moment. When he blinked, it was gone.

“Jared!” Jensen ran down the block to the corner. He craned his neck around to look up and down the intersection. Early morning foot traffic was light, so whoever this person was - _it couldn’t have been Jared_ \- should still be in sight. Perhaps it was only in Jensen's mind? In the past four weeks, he had spent too many hours and too much focus on finding a way back to a man he had only known for three days.

As he walked back to the front door, Jensen thought that the chance of Jared just showing up on his doorstep without warning was thin, and he didn't want to think about the possibility of another visit from one of Jared's relatives.

He opened up the shop as usual, unlocking the register and turning on all the A/V systems behind the counter. He threw on a CD of Stevie Ray Vaughan, hoping the blues guitar licks would center him, make him forget the illusion he saw out front.

_Pride And Joy_ was playing when he flicked on his aunt’s Christmas lights _(no, faerie lights, that's what she called them)_ and he stood soaking in the sight as Stevie Ray sang.

_Yeah I love my baby, my heart and soul  
Love like ours won't never grow old_

“That means you're open for business, right? When the lights go on?”

Jensen froze at the sound of that voice, so recognizable yet so different. His feet refused to turn his body around. He didn't know what he feared worse - that it really was Jared after all his time, or that it was a stranger and Jensen was losing his mind.

“Jensen? Are you going to talk to me?” The pleading tone squeezed his heart. He turned around and took a deep breath.

Jared was just as beautiful as those final moments that Jensen saw him, standing right here in this very spot. But he was no longer the boy Jensen first met on the street. He was bigger somehow, and broader, with his hair impossibly longer for the month they spent apart. Jared’s face still glowed with the same innocence as before - at least that much hadn't changed.

“How are you here?” Jensen had to stop himself from reaching out and touching the sleeve of Jared’s pea coat, as if that touch would cause him to disappear once again.

Dimples transformed Jared's face, and the uncertainty that was there before washed away like waves smoothing out the sand on a beach.

“I wanted to see you. I needed to.” Jared ducked his head and ran a hand through his hair nervously, and it made Jensen smile. No matter what Jared was, what type of royalty his family might be, he was still the same person that Jensen fell in love in those few days they spent together.

“Is everything okay? Have you met your father yet?” Jensen broke out of his trance to take a few steps towards him.

A grimace crossed Jared's face. “Yeah, I did. Still trying to get used to having family. And taking orders. There are a lot of rules and… restrictions when you're part of the Court.”

"The Seelie Court?” Jensen asked.

Jared's face brightened up again, and it was worth all the time Jensen spent pouring over books and websites on the Sidhe the past four weeks.

“Yeah, that's right. I'm here because I needed to see you. There's supposed to be a ceremony, a wedding I guess. And I needed to ask you a question. But it's too much to ask of you. Too much to ask of anyone.”

Jared's ramblings would have made him laugh any other time, but he was too fixated on one word.

“Jared, back up. Whose wedding?” Jensen closed the gap between them and closed his fingers around Jared's wrist. It felt warm under his palm and he was suddenly felt a wash of feelings, both deeply happy and immensely unsettled. The emotions were so strong that he felt he might drop to his knees.

“Mine," Jared said.

“That's not possible. You've only been gone four weeks.” _That's not possible because you are meant to be with me._

Jared shrugged. “Four weeks for you, but six months for me. A lot has happened since I left. I can't stay here long because they don't know that I've left. I know it's too much to ask but I need to know - will you come back with me? It's all I can think about.”

“Stay here with me.” Jensen pulled Jared by the wrist towards him until they were touching from chest to hip. He buried his face in Jared's neck. “You don't need to go back.”

“I can't stay.” Jared whispered in his ear. “At least, not right now.”

They heard the door to Jeff's apartment open in the back of the store, and the echo of steps across the hardwood.

"Jared?” His uncle sounded pleased. “You're back?”

“Not for long. I have to leave again.” His voice was choked up and he started to pull away from Jensen, but Jensen held tight.

“No, we're going to leave together.” He didn't realize until that moment that there was no other choice for him. It was all he thought of for four long miserable weeks, that if he got the chance, he would be with Jared no matter what.

Jared looked down at him, and his eyes turned a watery blue-green. “You sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“When do you leave?” Jeff's voice seemed to come from another world away.

“Right now.” Jared folded his arms around Jensen, and his mouth found Jensen's ear. “Hold on tight, love."

_T Rex Vinyl_ and his uncle melted away into a burst of shimmering light as he held onto Jared's waist tightly.


End file.
